


Five Minutes

by violenttulips



Series: Eighth Year Oneshots [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Getting Together, Good Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, eighth year au, light ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29585307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violenttulips/pseuds/violenttulips
Summary: Harry Potter finds an injured Draco Malfoy on the floor and helps him to the Hospital Wing. A truce is offered and accepted, and nothing between them will ever be the same again.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Series: Eighth Year Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173599
Comments: 6
Kudos: 199





	Five Minutes

Sprawled on the floor and definitely _not_ whimpering as he wills his injured leg to move the way he needs to reach out and grab his wand lying a few feet away... _That_ is how Harry Potter found him. Because of-fucking-course it was Harry Potter who had to find him.

The Golden Boy approaches tentatively, hands raised.

"Er, Malfoy? Do you need any help?"

Draco shakes his head and grits his teeth. "No. I'm _fine_."

Harry crouches down to pick up Draco's wand, immediately passing it over, and Draco uses it to Repair his bag and Summon his belongings, directing them inside in a messy tumble so he doesn't have to gather them.

Bag in hand, he finds himself once again stuck. Draco knows he can't stand on his own, having already tried. He's pretty sure his ankle is broken, or at least badly sprained.

Harry reaches out to tilt Draco's chin up, examining his bleeding lip and blackened eye. His pained expression makes it clear that he's already surmised what has happened.

"Come to finish the job, Potter?" Draco asks, a hint of challenge in his eyes.

Part of Harry is glad to see it, even if it _is_ directed at the wrong person. He's missed seeing Draco's fire, he's surprised to realize.

And in turn, Draco is startled by the pure fury in Harry's eyes, the crackle of his magic in the air, and even _more_ surprised to discover that it isn't directed at him when Harry asks, his voice low and tense, " _Who did this to you?_ "

Draco looks away. "Why does it matter?"

"Why does it _matter?_ Because you're getting hurt, because they need to be stopped!"

"Why?" Draco's query is spoken in a soft, almost childlike tone. "I deserve it."

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Harry slams a hand down on the hard stone floor, and immediately looks guilty when Draco flinches. He carefully lowers his voice to a normal volume. "You _don't_ deserve _this_."

Draco licks his bloody lip and looks up at him, a storm raging behind those clear grey eyes "Don't I, Potter?"

Harry stares at him in shock, his chest suddenly aching. "No! You—you _don't_. No one deserves this. Not you. Not anyone."

"I'm a Death Eater." Draco drags his left sleeve up to brandish his Dark Mark. "I may be a bit more pleasant to be around now, but I still have _this_. I still hurt people in the war. Some things can't be forgiven."

Harry reaches out and takes Draco's wrist in his hand, gazing at the faded Mark that remains.

"This...this isn't who you are, Malfoy. It never was. You're _more_..." Harry cuts himself off awkwardly. "Let me take you to Madam Pomfrey."

"Fine. But I can walk, I'm not some damsel that needs to be carried."

"Of course not," Harry grins. "Come on. There we go." He hauls Draco to his feet, letting him lean heavily against him.

"Ah!" Draco's probably-broken ankle immediately gives out the second he puts any weight on it, but Harry catches him around the waist, pulling him up against his chest.

"I've got you."

Harry wraps an arm around him, helping him hobble along on one foot, and they slowly and awkwardly make their way to the Hospital Wing.

•••••

" _Five minutes_ , Mr. Potter. Then up to bed with you," Madam Pomfrey says sternly before disappearing into her office.

Harry nods.

Draco glares at him from the bed. "I won't tell you anything."

He watches warily as Harry sits on the edge of the nearest bed, facing him.

"Why not?"

"I can take care of myself. They just caught me unawares this time. It won't happen again."

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "This is stupid."

Draco huffs and looks away.

"Fine. But I'm here." Harry says. "You don't have to talk to me, or tell me who did it, but if you want to talk... I'm here."

"Why are you being nice to me? You haven't said a word to me all year."

Harry hesitates, taking a moment to respond. "I thought that was what you wanted. I could tell you were trying to get a fresh start, I didn't want to muck it up by re-instigating the famous Potter-Malfoy feud."

"I think you mean the famous Malfoy-Potter feud," Draco smirks, and Harry likes the sight of it. "Alphabetical and all, you know."

Harry laughs and shakes his head. "Fine."

"What did you mean when you said I'm _'more?'"_

Harry sighs again. "I meant... Yes, you _were_ a Death Eater, but that's never been _all_ you were. You're... Smart. Second in our class—"

"Fucking Granger," Draco mutters.

"No, that's Ron's job." Harry's eyes widen in shock at his own words, and he covers his mouth, face flushing the exact shade of his Gryffindor tie. "I mean—I'm sorry, that was _really_ inappropriate, I shouldn't've—"

Draco snickers, then pulls a disgusted face. "I did _not_ need that mental image, Potter."

"And _I_ did?"Harry laughs, glancing back over at Draco. "I can't believe I said that. Hermione is going to _kill_ me."

"That would be a shame. Surviving the Dark Lord only to die at the hands of _Granger_." Draco teases.

For a moment, time seems to stop. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy laughing together, grinning widely at each other before abruptly catching themselves and sobering.

"So, it's true. Those two finally got together, then."

Harry nods, smiling faintly at his hands.

"Is that...lonely? I heard that you and the youngest Weasley ended your relationship last summer."

Harry looks up, tilting his head to one side. He scrutinizes Draco's face, looking for any sign of mockery, but he finds only sincerity and understanding there.

"Blaise and Pansy too," Draco adds softly. "I don't begrudge them for it, nauseating as it is. But there's no one else—no one to talk to when they're off...doing whatever they do. "

"I understand." Harry smiles kindly, and Draco feels a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach.

"Yes. Well." Draco clears his throat. "I believe you were extolling my many non-Death Eater virtues, Potter. Do go on."

Harry grins again.

"Right. So, you're smart. You're good at Quidditch—"

"Not as good as—"

"Stop interrupting!" Harry admonishes, and Draco pouts but goes quiet.

"Your impressions are fantastic. You had everyone in the Common Room laughing the other night doing impressions of the teachers. Even Ron couldn't stop talking about how funny it was."

A slow smile etches itself across Draco's lips. He _had_ enjoyed making his classmates laugh, and it hadn't been mean-spirited or unkind either, just fun and silly in a way he'd rarely allowed himself to be as a teenager.

"I didn't know you saw that," Draco murmurs.

"I didn't. I was in the library, but I was sad that I missed it when I heard all about it from everybody else. Anyway, what else? You're secretly kind, you're determined, you're—"

"I'm _what?"_

 _"_ Determined?"

"No," Draco sputters, "the other one."

"Secretly kind?"

"Yes, that. I'm _not_ that."

"So, you didn't stop Neville before he added too much powdered Aconite to his potion yesterday? Or warn a bunch of First Year Hufflepuffs away from going down a corridor where Peeves was having a snit and throwing bricks at everyone? Or help a Seventh Year Ravenclaw find the potions text she needed in the library—"

"Alright, alright," Draco concedes, a pink flush climbing his pale cheeks. "I didn't think anyone noticed those things."

"I did." Harry blushes too, and looks away.

"Stalking me again, Potter?"

"No! Just...noticing."

Draco swallows and chances a glance up. "Why?"

"I always notice you. You're...hard to miss." Harry answers, chewing his lower lip, his blush deepening.

"Oh."

They both look away again, an awkward silence stretching between them until Harry breaks it, blurting—

"Can we start over?"

" _What?"_

"I mean, I know we can't start over, not really, but do you think we could try...being friends? You know, try..." Harry reaches out a hand toward him, " _this_ again?"

Draco stares at him, eyeing the outstretched hand warily for a moment before accepting the handshake with a _very_ dramatic sigh.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt."

•••••

Harry lays his head in his lap, and Draco's fingers immediately come up to card through his dark curls.

"Mm. I fucking love you. You're the absolute _best_ ," Harry sighs.

"I'm aware," Draco responds absently, turning the page of his book and trying hard not to blush at Harry's clearly accidental choice of words.

The first time they had done this, it had been a bit awkward. Harry had complained of a headache while they'd been studying, pressing a hand to his forehead, and then he had begun panicking, breathing unsteadily in a way that had alarmed Draco—Harry trying to count slowly, to breathe in time with his counting, to calm himself down.

Harry had explained, sitting at the end of Draco's bed, shaking and clutching his knees to his chest, about how he knew, he _knew_ that Voldemort was gone, and he _knew_ that a headache wasn't the same as his scar hurting, but that his body still reacted to pain in his forehead as if he _didn't_ know those things—still made it hard to breathe, to think, to resist the urge to claw at his own skin, desperate to escape—

Draco had dug around in his bag and found a Pain-Relief Potion and offered it to him, offering to hold him too, if Harry needed that. Harry did.

He'd ended up curled up on the bed with his head in Draco's lap, and playing with his hair had seemed like the natural thing to do. Harry had liked it, had relaxed, had thanked him profusely. Draco had liked it too, touching Harry's hair, comforting him.

The next time a panic attack had happened, they had known exactly what to do. After a while, Harry had started laying on Draco anytime they were alone, no panic necessary. And Draco always pretended to sigh, pretended to feel put upon—greatly inconvenienced, he'd say—even though he secretly loved the closeness, too. He must have let some of it show on his face, because Harry just laughed at his antics, and then he'd lay on him anyway. And Draco would touch his hair, every time.

Harry is nearly asleep when Draco snaps his book closed and sets it aside, patting Harry on the head like a puppy. "Alright. Up, Potter. I need to get ready for bed."

Harry sits up, yawning widely. "Sorry. You're just so comfortable."

"So you've told me" Draco chuckles. "I'm starting to think you only befriended me for the free cuddles and hair petting."

"That's not the reason! Just an excellent...side benefit." Harry grins at him, and Draco blushes slightly. "Well, that and the improved Potions grade."

Draco rolls his eyes. "That one comes at the expense of my sanity. Alright, clear off. I have an Arithmancy exam in the morning and I really do need to get ready for bed."

Harry stands and stretches his arms over his head, groaning softly then letting out a deep sigh as his joints pop.

Draco swallows nervously, averting his eyes from the strip of tawny skin at Harry's abdomen that's revealed between the hem of his t-shirt and those soft jogger sweatpants he's so fond of wearing anytime they're outside of class.

Harry picks up his bag, and Draco stands too, walking with him to the door to his room.

"Thanks again for your help with that Potions paper," Harry says, fiddling with the strap on his bag. "I completely forgot about the varying effects of stewed Mandrake in Memory Potions, depending on maturity and how finely chopped they are..."

"Of course," Draco smiles, "I was happy to help."

"Draco?"

"What?"

Harry hesitates, looking nervous. "I... I'm really glad we're friends."

Draco feels his stomach flutter as he unconsciously steps closer. "Me too, Harry."

Harry swallows, and Draco tracks the movement along his throat with his eyes.

"And I, um, I like you."

Draco's gaze snaps up to meet Harry's—his eyes bright behind his glasses.

"Oh. I like you too, Harry."

"No, I mean—I do. Like you, I mean. But I also—" Harry sucks in a breath, pushes his glasses up to rub his face, then blurts. " _Willyougoonadatewithme_?"

Had Harry just...? Draco resists the urge to pinch himself. " _What?"_

Harry panics and turns away, a hand on the door handle. "Sorry, I don't—I shouldn't have asked. Things have been so good between us, and now I've mucked it all up, haven't I? Fuck, Draco, I'm an _idiot—_ "

"Harry."

"...I didn't mean to mess up our friendship, it's been so nice to have someone to talk to, someone who understands—"

" _Harry!"_

Harry finally stops talking and glances back, looking positively mortified with himself, and there's nothing for it—Draco grabs his face and leans down.

Their lips brush softly, awkwardly at first, and then with more confidence for a few long, perfect seconds. Harry pulls away with a soft gasp. "So, you...?"

"Yes Harry, I _would_ like to go on a date with you."

Harry gives him a shy smile. "Yeah?"

Draco kisses him again, and Harry leans into it the second time, dropping his bag and bringing his hands up to wrap around Draco's waist as Draco slides his hands up into Harry's curls, loving, like always, the way they feel trailing through his fingers.

" _Yeah_."


End file.
